I shook my head. “Don’t you worry about her. Those chicks have it the worst. I see them at the bookstore. Do you know how many self-help books they buy?”
She sighed. “It was just the way she looked at me, you know? She invited me to some party she’s having, obviously out of pity.”
I glanced up at the antique grandfather clock standing in the corner of the dining room. Was Adrian on a date with Golden?
As my mind wandered, my mother kept talking about the way the yummy mommy had looked at her.
A gentle presence settled over me, and I thought of Keith Raven, my sweet LA rebound boy. We’d talked about our days a few times, and agreed that what most people desire more than anything, more than money or fame or stuff, is someone to complain to for thirty minutes a day.*
*Not talk to. Complain to. Let’s be honest here, it’s not a conversation we’re after, not always.
My mother had stopped talking.
“You said Kyle was acting out lately?” I prompted.
“Boys are not like girls,” she said, and launched into a tirade about the weird things he’d been doing. When she got to the part about him not doing a great job wiping his bum and leaving streaks in his underwear, I had to stifle my laughter.
Describing the lengths she went to sanitizing the laundry did seem to give my mother satisfaction. I patiently listened without interrupting.
We moved out of the dining room and cleaned the kitchen. When it was bedtime for Kyle, we pulled out the trundle bed for his friend, and I helped her get both boys settled in.
I don’t know how much I feel differently toward Kyle than I would if he was actually my brother, and not the child I gave birth to at fifteen. I never had a brother, so how would I know to compare? I do love the little guy. I love every hair on his head, but he’s a sweetheart, and who wouldn’t?
He never nursed from me. Despite understanding the health benefits, and understanding that it would be the right thing to do, I hadn’t been emotionally able to do it. Honestly, that probably made it easier for my parents to bond with him as their own.
Still, there were times like that night, when I was around both him and another boy his age, and I would compare. Was the other boy taller and stronger? Did he seem smarter, having benefited from pre-natal care? Comparison is the thief of joy, but we all do it with our children, or our appearances.
After we closed the door to Kyle’s room, my mother began to cry, smiling through the tears. “I’m so blessed,” she whispered. “So what if I have some wrinkles? I have two beautiful children who make me happy.”
“And one of us knows how to wipe properly.”
She held onto my arm as we walked down the stairs. “He’ll figure it out. None of us is born knowing all the answers.”
“Except Dad.”
“Hah! Your father is exceptional, of course.”
“Of course,” I agreed, both of us giggling.
~
Monday.
Contrary to what I expected, the bookstore was not a disaster on Monday morning. Adrian had been distracted by the negotiations with Black Sheep Books, and hadn’t moved any of the fixtures around.
Gordon Oliver came over from next door, and we had a heart-to-heart about the future of the store.
“Change is hard,” he said, his elbows on the counter.
Gordon has black hair and almond-shaped brown eyes. One of his parents is Thai and the other is Eastern European. He’s a handsome man for a guy in his forties, but he’s never been married, as far as I know. He enjoys his fine wines and his trips around the world, and dating a new divorcee every year or so.
His latest girlfriend had allergies to a number of common wine additives, so he had thrown himself into sourcing organic wine they could enjoy together.
When he said that change was hard, I wasn’t sure if it was about the bookstore or avoiding allergens. The woman was vegan, too, which explained why he’d been coming over to the bookstore side to wolf down takeout from Burt’s Burger Barn. As we talked about plans for moving the store to the bigger location, the scent of his recently-devoured burger with feta-cheese dressing hung around us in the air.
“I’ll miss having you right next door,” he said.
“But you’ll be able to expand the wine store.”
He got a mischievous look. “Oh, right. I guess I will.”
“You love the wine more than the books.”
He poked around at the pens in the tin can pen-holder on the counter. Kyle had made the cup for the grand re-opening of Peachtree Books after the Big Split, when Gordon had divided the space to open the wine store.
“The lease negotiations are pretty much final. We’re moving. Do you think Dalton Deangelo will come to a grand opening party?” he asked.